Wolfsbane Winter (29 page)

Alana spared one backward glance. Five figures were climbing down into the valley behind them.

“They’re following us.”

“Then run faster.”

But Alana did not think she could. The morning’s hike over rough ground had tired her out. Now her lungs were burning and her legs were turning to rubber. The surge of adrenaline could not carry her much farther. If it had not been for Deryn towing her along, she would have been overtaken by the gang already.

The man-made ravine took a sharp bend to the left and then the right. The way split. Without hesitation Deryn took the smaller side branch. The sounds of pursuit echoed through the narrow chasm, bouncing off the perpendicular stone walls.

“We have…get to trees…hide. Too exposed…” Deryn gasped the words.

Alana glanced up. The rock faces on either side showed no sign of getting lower or less sheer. If anything, they were smoother than before, devoid of handholds, impossible to climb.

They sped around another right-angled bend and came up short. The ravine widened out into a square, fifty feet across, like a room with an open roof, carved into the mountain. The walls were sheer and unbroken on all sides except for the one facing the entrance, where twin stone doors were carved into the rock face. There was no other way out.

Shouts and the pounding footsteps were getting louder. The gang was very close, but Alana did not need sound to tell her this. A rising furor of savage excitement was bearing down on her, wild bloodlust and aggression, and through it all ran a yet more terrifying thread, a cold hunger, utterly without mercy. She had felt this bestial emotion once before, Alana realized, walking home from Eldora’s farm. How long had the gang been watching the citizens and farmers of Neupor?

Deryn was still not giving up. She grabbed a brass handle on the door and threw her whole weight into pulling it. “Help me.”

The stone door started to move, but they were out of time.

“Freeze.”

Alana tried to stand still, but her legs gave out and she sank to her knees, gasping. She twisted her head toward the entrance. Five outlaws had entered the rock chamber, four men and a woman. Two held drawn bows. The others had swords. They also were breathing heavily from the exertion. Their clothes were one step up from rags. Clearly they had been living rough for a while, yet the man in the center carried himself with an arrogant confidence that marked him as leader.

He was tall and broad shouldered. His graying hair would once have been jet black. His face had crooked nose and an even more crooked smile. He was the center of the inhuman malice that Alana could sense. His followers were fired up with the excitement of the chase. Without doubt, they were dangerous criminals, but the leader was the one who would kill without guilt, motive, or hesitation, and enjoy doing it.

His aura added to the sight of the bows pointing at them, turning Alana’s guts to water. The arrowheads drew her gaze, mesmerizing her with fear. For all the tales of battles and adventure she had heard, she had never realized quite how menacing it would feel. At her side, Deryn had released the brass handle and stood motionless, both palms pressed flat against the stone door. Alana could feel her mood, bitter, defiant, but also despairing. She realized the Iron Wolf did not have much hope for their chances. Deryn took another deep breath, then raised her hands in surrender and turned around.

Shock ripped through Deryn, as sharp as it was unexpected. Alana was still dealing with the surprise when, without warning, Deryn dropped, lunging left. Alana saw Deryn’s hand brush her calf as she rolled. Bowstrings twanged, but the archers were too slow and the arrows ricocheted off the stone door, missing their target. Deryn’s momentum took her over in a roll and then up onto one knee. Her hand shot out and Alana caught the flash of metal. She turned her head, following the trajectory.

The gang leader was also moving, diving sideways. A metal object hit the wall behind where he had been standing and clattered to the ground. A dagger. Meanwhile, one of the gang was fumbling for another arrow, and the other three were charging forward, toward Deryn. They arrived in a storm of blows, knocking her down.

The gang leader had landed on the ground. His malice and self-assurance had been blown away by the wave of alarm, but now they slithered back into place as, grinning, he hoisted himself to his feet.The fighting was over, while Alana was still trying to catch up with what had happened and how it started.

No. Not quite over. Deryn was the focus of a frenzied attack. Three outlaws were laying into her with their feet, stamping and kicking. Deryn was curled on the ground, arms wrapped around her head. Alana was still on her knees, a yard or more away. Without bothering to rise, she threw herself forward, desperate to help. The ankle of one outlaw was just beyond her grasp, but if she could trip him—

“Hold on, there.” The gang leader’s voice was not loud, but it held the surety of someone who does not need to shout to be confident of obedience.

All movement stopped, apart from the woman with the bow, who completed the action of nocking a new arrow on the string. In the sudden calm, the leader strolled forward, dusting grit from the seat of his pants. At his nod, his followers reached down and dragged Deryn to her feet. She looked dazed. Blood tricked down the side of her face and a raw graze marked her chin.

“You know, I don’t like people throwing knives at me.” The leader’s voice was quietly conversational. Then he drew back his fist and slammed it into Deryn’s stomach, twice. His next blow backhanded her across the face.

Alana started to scramble to her feet, but a movement from the archer stopped her. The arrow was aimed straight at her heart and Alana did not have the speed to avoid it. All she could do was watch.

The feral excitement from the gang was monstrous, sickening. Each grunt and gasp from Deryn added a fresh surge of satisfaction. Never had Alana wanted so much to block out the emotions of others.

At last the leader stepped back. The outlaws holding Deryn released her, and she collapsed senseless to the ground, still and silent.

“Say, boss, isn’t she the one who tracked us onto the mountain before? The one we got with the rockfall?”

“Could be. We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t interrupt our lamb barbecue again.” The leader turned to the stone door while nonchalantly rubbing his knuckles. “Right, now. What have we here?”

“We gonna open it, boss?”

“Don’t see why not.” He gestured impatiently to his followers. “Well go on, then. Don’t just look at it.”

The doors opened to the sound of grinding, while a shower of dust rained down from the top. The air that flowed out was stale and smelt of mildew. Matted spiderwebs coated the inside of the doors. How long had passed since they were last opened? Beyond them, a tunnel vanished into the darkness.

One of the outlaws took a step forward.

“Hang on.”

He looked back. “Yes, boss?”

“Supposing there’s a trap in there?”

“Oh.” The outlaw retreated.

The leader’s smile broadened. “That’s why we’re going to send her in first.”

Alana’s guts clenched. He was staring at her.

“And she won’t get any clever ideas, because we’ve got her friend here to play football with.” The leader planted a swinging kick on Deryn’s ass.

“I promise. I won’t try anything. I promise.” Alana heard herself babbling. The most worrying thing had been Deryn’s lack of response to the kick. She was clearly unconscious. Alana could only pray that she was not more seriously hurt. Asking for permission to examine Deryn’s injuries first would be a waste of breath.

After a last anxious look at Deryn’s motionless body, Alana entered the tunnel. She ran her left hand along the wall, while holding the other out in front. Despite the outlaw’s talk of traps, Alana was so concerned for Deryn that she had walked a dozen paces before the idea struck her that maybe she should also be concerned for herself.

Alana stopped, straining her senses. The echoes suggested that a large void lay ahead, but she could see nothing. The wind gusted down the corridor, stirring up centuries-old dust, clogging her nose. The stone wall was as smooth against her fingers as polished marble. Alana took another few cautious steps forward. Abruptly the wall vanished on her left. Alana stopped and then realized the darkness was no longer so complete. Her eyes were adjusting after the bright sunlight outside.

The passageway had led her to a large chamber, cut from the rock. Alana stepped forward, into the open, and looked up. A barrel ceiling arched, high overhead, hazy in diffuse daylight. The chamber was fifty or so feet across. The walls were smooth as glass, devoid of ornamentation, glinting with a faint blue sheen. The floor was empty apart from a carved rectangular block in the middle.

“Well. What have you found?” The voice boomed from the entrance.

“Nothing. There’s a room in here.”

“What’s in it?”

“Like I said. Nothing, apart from a block of stone.” Alana turned in a circle, looking around. “It’s—”

“What?”

The blue sheen on the walls had come from three deep recesses at the far end of the room. “There’s some weird blue lights in here. But they’re not moving or anything.”

Blue eternal lights. Demon magic.
And that’s one thing that really shouldn’t worry me. They wouldn’t even count as a party trick for Mom.

Footsteps echoed around the walls. The outlaws were coming.

“What do the lights look like?”

“Statues or something. They’re in niches on the wall. There’s a helmet, a shield, and a s…”

The word froze in Alana’s throat. Three of the four magical weapons from the story. The stone block was a sarcophagus. How could she not have recognized it immediately? She stood in the Witch-Lord’s tomb beneath Voodoo Mountain.

“What the…”

The outlaws had reached the chamber. Two were half carrying Deryn, with her arms hooked over their shoulders, but she was now awake. When they dropped her, she rolled onto her back and raised her hand to her face.

“Boss, I know this. We…we n-n-need to get away.” One of the outlaws spoke in panic, backing toward the exit.

“What?”

“The Witch-Lord. His ghost will—”

The leader grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair to stop his retreat. “Ghost stories are for kids.”

“But…”

While the outlaws’ attention was elsewhere, Alana sidled around the edge of the chamber. Deryn levered herself into a sitting position as Alana dropped down at her side. Even in the dim light, Alana could see her wince.

“You should lie still.”

“Why?”

“You’re injured.”

“I know that. But it’s not going to be a problem much longer, is it?”

They slit Alejo’s throat.
Alana was struck by the understanding of what Deryn meant.
They won’t let us go alive.

Deryn’s eyes met hers. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have—”

“Yes.” The outlaw leader’s voice was a shout of triumph. “A sword that will cut through steel, a shield that won’t let me be hurt, and a helmet that will bring everyone to their knees before me. Now, which one will I try out first?”

His voice was getting louder, closer. Alana looked up. The shield was apparently out of the running. The leader was marching toward them, the sword in one hand and the helmet in the other. He stopped, looming over them, and then raised the helmet and placed it over his head.

Primordial terror cascaded through Alana’s soul. Death, and undeath. Pain and ruin. Horror to stop a heart beating. She heard screams, but the sound was only a fitting backdrop to the fear. And yet, not all reason was scattered. Alana recognized the familiar taint of imposed emotion. This was not her fear. She could renounce it. Instinctively, she went to grasp the talisman at her throat, only to have her hand knocked aside.

“That’s a nice-looking bauble. But you won’t be needing it anymore. So if you don’t mind…”

A hand wrapped itself around the talisman. Alana felt it as a blade in her mind, dissecting her thoughts. A sword passed in front of her eyes, and the talisman—her shield against the world—was gone.

Six sets of emotions snapped into sharp focus. Blind terror consuming Deryn, and four others, the outlaws, nearly as savagely affected, but farther away. Closest of all was crazed joy from the gang leader. Alana had thought she could feel the emotions of others before, but she had only seen the blurred reflection. This was the full force of it, in fine detail. Greed, bloodlust, doubt, alarm, and hatred. And yet—Alana pressed her clenched fists to her head—and yet, with the detail came comprehension. The emotions were precise and clear, and she could finally see which ones where hers.

Alana reached out with her mind and closed the doors.

The sudden shock of calm made her keel forward, flat on the ground, almost at the point of passing out.

“Well, what do you know? It works.” The gang leader’s laughter echoed around the tomb, becoming less muffled as he removed the helmet.

“Boss, boss, that was, oh…” The outlaw was crying.

“What? Did you feel it too?”